No More Talk Of Darkness
SEBASTIAN.
"They said I am the moon, my dear,
"They said I shine so clear."
I recognize that voice.
"But drown out all my light,
"For if I am the moon, my dear,
"Then, lover, you're the night."
I know that song.
I open my eyes to find Daisy above me. My head is resting on her lap, and she's absently running her fingers through my hair as she stares up at the ceiling, singing softly to herself.
I'm not dead. That's good, though I hesitate to call it lucky. I feel strange. I'm tired, but not nearly as much as I should be.
I look down.
Daisy hasn't realized I'm awake yet, and she jolts up when she feels me shifting beneath her as I try to get up and take stock of the damage. "You're awake," she says, and the relief in her voice is palpable.
I sit up without too much difficulty, but Daisy keeps her hand on my arm, ready to steady me if I wobble.
But I don't. I'm fine. The cuts and bruises from my battle with the Shades are healing. There are still red marks and lingering welts peppered across my skin, and there is a soreness in my bones that I suspect will be there for a while. But I'm okay. I'm not bleeding anymore, and the pain is a mere shadow of what it was before I fell asleep. A lingering aftertaste of something potent enough to kill.
"What happened?" I ask, and Daisy finally lets go of my arm, seemingly convinced that I'm not going to topple over again.
"I think- I mean... we tried casting a spell. Some kind of witchcraft to help you... or at least I think that's what we did. You were bleeding out, not recovering from your injuries fast enough. You passed out, and I thought..." She trails off.
Daisy seems unable to bring herself to say the words, but she does not have to. I can see them on her face plain as day, and I recognize the fear written there far too well.
‘I thought I lost you.’
I take her hand, and she lets out a slow breath, closing her eyes as she composes herself. Her thumb brushes absently over my bruised knuckles, and I stay there in silence while her fingers trace little shapes on the top of my hand until she has collected herself enough to go on.
When she opens her eyes again, she's blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill, and I sit there in awe of her strength.
I don't know what to say. If the roles had been reversed, there would've been nothing anyone could have told me to make me feel better. If the roles had been reversed...
I don't want to think about what I would do to the world if it took her away from me.
"How do you feel?" she asks finally.
Tired. Sore. A little hazy. Concerned about her. Afraid of what is still to come. Relieved. Grateful. Ashamed.
"Like the spell worked," I tell her, which is true, at least. "I'm healing."
She gives me a numb little nod, and there is a distant haze in her eyes that makes my stomach tighten with worry. She must have been so weary and worried, and I wasn't able to help her. I left her alone in a burnt-down house, in a graveyard of a village, with poison rain falling from cursed clouds, and countless dangers lurking in the dark.
I turn over her hand in mine. There is a large blister on her palm from where the black rain burned her skin.
I never should have left her alone.
I should have been the one to protect her. Instead, I'm only alive because of her—because of what she did for me.
"How long was I out?" I ask carefully.
Her own injuries are healing as well, but her warm skin is paler than usual. Her soft, beautiful features appear somewhat sunken with fatigue. The amount of strength it would have taken for an inexperienced novice to summon the power that saved me seems insurmountable. I hate that I am the one who drove her to such desperation.
"I'm not sure," she answers at last. "I spoke to Alice a while ago, but I lost track of time. She's with Luke. They got somewhere safe, a cellar or something in the village. I don't think they're too far from here, but we can't go out in this rain. We're supposed to meet them at sunrise." Even drained and devastated, she's making plans, looking after her friends, and thinking of her people.
Dawn feels dangerously imminent and infinitely far away at the same time. We need time, and yet we cannot afford much more of it.
If the Witch of the Dark could make night fall early, would she make morning arrive late as well? Could she do that?
"Were you able to get any sleep?" I ask, and she frowns as if my question sounded positively ridiculous to her.
"I was watching over you," she states in an almost childlike tone, like a little girl explaining something that should be obvious to everyone.
I shake my head in dismay. She's unbelievable.
"You need to rest."
"You're one to talk," she retorts, some of that weary numbness fading from her face. She's probably too drained to even stand right now, but not enough that she can resist the opportunity to scold me.
"I'm fine," I reassure her, but I'm more than that. She watched over me. Even after everything she saw and survived, she stayed by my side. No one has ever taken care of me that way before.
Daisy looks away, her fingers wringing in her lap as she glances back at the window. The curtain blocks out the flashes of green lightning, but every so often, we hear the rumbling of thunder.
"You were chanting in your sleep, whispering incantations in some other language," she says without looking at me. "Was that me? Were you... did I do that to you? With magic, I mean. Did I cast a spell on you?"
We definitely did something. But even I don't fully understand how magic interacts with her bloodline and what she can do with it.
"I'm not sure."
It's a half-truth, and guilt twists my insides, making the beast snarl deep within me.
Daisy scowls, unconvinced and unsatisfied by my answer.
That perfect little pout of hers is so damn pretty it makes me want to drag my teeth across her bottom lip.
"Stop it," she says, her cheeks flushing.
"Stop what?" I smirk, but her expression is anything but playful, and her words echo in the back of my head.
Don't you dare. Not now. Not here.
But I don't want to think of here and now. I don't want to stop long enough to notice the stench of burnt wood or recall where we are. I don't want to remember the faces of the people who lived in this house, who slept in the tattered, ashy bed we are in. I don't want to think about what the pines used to smell like or what the sloping streets of the village used to look like. If I let myself think about it, it'll break whatever sanity I have left.
"Hey," Daisy says softly, mercifully pulling my thoughts away from a path I'm not ready to go down. I get the impression she sensed the darkness tugging at the edges of my mind, and I don't know what I would do if I didn't have her here to pull me back from it. "Let's forget about magic for a little, okay? Let's just lie down and get some rest."
I suppose, for now, it's all we can do, so I lie back down on the bed beside her. I suck in a short breath when she curls up against my chest, careful to avoid my wounds despite how well they're healing. Maybe one day, her softness will stop surprising me. Maybe one day, I won't be shocked that she wants me nearby. Maybe one day I'll even deserve it.
"Will you sing for me?" I ask her tentatively. I can feel her smiling against my skin as she snuggles up closer, and it makes my chest ache in the most wonderful way.
"These shadows seem so sweet, my dear,
"The blackness brings no fear.
"So if it's wrong or right,
"I don't care which it is, my dear,
"I'll stand with you and fight."
The lullaby she sang in my dreams. When I'm around her, I feel like I can't tell the difference between what's real and what isn't.
Before I passed out, I swear I remember her holding me. I remember her calling my name and saying she loved me. A part of me wants to ask her if it truly happened, but I'm all too aware it could just as easily have been a fever dream in my weakened state. If it was... I don't want to know. If any of this is a dream, then I'm not ready to wake up from it just yet.
"The stars can all go out, my dear,
"The day won't touch us here.
"The sun can die above,
"But even in this dark, my dear,
"I'm with the one I love."